She bent low toward the sobs of her sister, a beautiful posture of grace.

“Do you need love?” A question to the two year old whose face was pressed angrily into the floor.

With patience fragile, I only wanted the fussing to end. But gentle big sister’s words drew me around the corner toward grace poured out. Little legs stopped flailing and a piggy-tailed head lifted toward a reaching-down sister. Then big sis held little sis and spoke life.

“We love you. You aren’t a fussy girl. You are my sweet girl.”

This undeserved, soul-tending kindness was a gift to my drained mothering self. It was a glimpse into the eternal impact of changes I’m striving for. Long term pay-off played out. The feisty, tender, but passionate big sis, who has melted down and erupted out so many times before, was now dishing out the very response that I’m finally learning to give to her. Grace upon grace.

In different seasons over the years, red faced and temper flaring, that six-year-old big sister has screamed with all she could muster. Her eyes showing anxiety and exhaustion, and her words peppered with “no” and “you never.” There have been stormy, yelling moments, and more times than I care to recount, words have flown from my mouth that I instantly wanted to retrieve. Yes, she was only two, three, four, and five, but we share matching mother/daughter tempers. She’d melt down, and I’d hold it together a couple times, for a couple days. But then she’d fuss right over the top of my patience limit.

I’ve got a thing about well-behaved kids. For years as a teacher, before children entered our world, I found it easy to gain control of behavior. By September, classes walked down hallways in lines, shared baskets of pencils with ease, and whispered during quiet concentration times.

But now there are four little, multi-temperament people in my house. And oh, how I tried the teacher-turned-mommy-discipline techniques: time out, counting to ten, early bedtime, spanking, ignoring, yelling. Some have value, but mostly I’ve found they only stir up or temporarily diffuse.

At some point, after heaving around an oversized load of guilt, I realized I’d been tearing down rather than building up. Managing moments rather than heart tending. Then, God gently nudged me toward grace, for myself and little people with their dander up. Especially them.

“The moment when you are most repelled by a child’s behavior, that is your warning light to draw the very closest to that child.” – Ann Voskamp

These tiny humans are living in a turned upside down world, and I long to be a refuge. I desire to lavish grace, and then once more again. Even when I’m offended, overextended, or over it. Even when they are difficult, deserving, or discombobulated. I want to stop allowing harmful things to escape from my lips, even in messy moments.

“Let all things be done for building up.” (1 Corinthians 14:26)

Discipline probably falls under “all things,” so I need to do some bending low to build up.

When my child is raging, there is an unspoken need aching to get out: fear, self-doubt, anxiety, or weariness. I want to parent for the long-term rather than the moment. Intention versus reaction. So, now, I’m attempting to do the opposite of what I want to do during those hard moments. I’m stepping toward instead of away from.

First comes breaking in with some love and silliness: “Do you need a hug?” “I can hug those mean words right out of ya’ if you need me to.” “How about some tickle therapy?”

When the fussing slows just a bit, speaking in: “You ARE kind.” “You are NOT mean.” “You ARE loving and patient.” “THIS is NOT who you are.” “I believe in you.”

Finally, digging in for her to consider: “Is THIS who you want to be?” “Do you like to yell at your family?” “Do you want our family to be kind to one another?” “Do you think I should let you yell?” “Are you treating us like you want to be treated?” “Are you feeling tired/jealous/mad?”

Usually, at some point, tears flow, arms fall limp, and a head sways “no.” Grace wins. Is she off the hook? Sometimes, but not always. Always, she needs to ask for forgiveness, and be reminded that we are told that, “When you talk, do not say harmful things, but say what people need — words that will help others become stronger” (Ephesians 4:29).

I never imagined I’d mess up this much as a parent. I’ve strained under my expectations, clung to an obsession with behavioral order, and uttered harmful words. Admittedly, I’ve got my own temper that needs softening, and I let mommy grumpiness linger like an unwanted guest. Now I’m at the end of myself. With unclenched fists, I am becoming aware of a full of grace God bending low to build me up, even when my dander is up. Especially then.

Thinking about my daughter speaking building up words to her sister, my heart swells, and I’m challenged toward habitual grace. We are a dinged up, flawed bunch, but still I want to see more anger melted by tickle therapy, tantrums stopped by hugs, and tears dried by building up words. During tension steeped moments, I want to scoop up grace for myself, and then bend low to pour it back out over my children. I can only pray that grace wins more today than yesterday.

Rebecca Radicchi is a homeschooling, tea sipping, mother of four. Already moved well outside her comfort zone by motherhood, missions, orphan care and adoption, the Lord keeps taking new ground in her heart. Only able to offer a "yes" when the Lord calls, God's been blessing, refining and stretching her. With the hope that others might be encouraged, her humble response is to share the stories. You can find her recording the wonder, struggles and graces of everyday family life at La Dolce Vita and as a contributor at No Hands But Ours.

One of my life verses is Micah 6:8, “He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?”

It is one of my favorite verses because my heart has been so moved by the love Jesus has for me and the sacrifice He made for me that I am grateful to have a way to express my gratitude through acts of justice and mercy while walking humbly with God.

I have found at times, however, the call to do justice and love mercy come in conflict with the call to walk humbly with God. For me, one of the ways to walk humbly with God is to recognize my limitations. I have to put skin to the fact that I am not God which means saying, “no” to ministry requests. It means going to sleep when I could be spending time advocating for the harrowed and helpless in the world. It means limited seats at my table, limited funds in my bank account, and limited energy in my body cannot be ignored but respected and adhered to.

This is hard for me at times, especially when I scroll my Facebook feed and see friends who are caring for their really sick children, spouse, or other family member all while millions of refugees flee war torn countries and babies are slaughtered by the hundreds each day in our country through the abortion industry.

As I scroll, I receive texts about one family member’s surgery gone wrong and another family member announcing a new baby is on the way. I have in mind my neighbor who has inpatient surgery scheduled this week and another neighbor who is trying to hold down a full-time job, care for twins all while battling profound “morning” sickness.

Folks at church are fighting for their lives in physical and spiritual ways, and strangers who pass me on the road are clearly battling something as demonstrated by their impatient honking because I won’t take a right turn on red. I want to meet the needs of all; I want to do justice and love mercy, but I’m daily confronted by the fact that I am so limited.

What am I to do when doing justly and/or loving mercy seem to come in conflict with walking humbly with my God?

God keeps bringing me to this answer: prayer.

God invites us to cast our cares before Him because He cares for us.
God tells us to be anxious for nothing BUT WITH PRAYER present our requests before Him.
God commands us to pray without ceasing.

And, when I walk humbly with God, I see the immense kindness in His command.
He gives us a way to do justly, love mercy WHILE walking humbly with Him.
It is by praying without ceasing.

I cannot take a meal or give money to every sick person or family I know. I cannot extend kindness to all my neighbors all at the same time they’re in need nor conjure up sustainable solutions for the refugee crisis and contact all the necessary world powers to make it happen.

I cannot heal all, but I know the Healer.

I cannot provide for all the needs, but I know the Provider.

I cannot rescue everyone in need, but I know the Rescuer.

I cannot comfort all the broken, but I know the Comforter.

I cannot speak peace over every situation, but I know the Prince of Peace.

I cannot be all to all, but I can go to the Great I Am through prayer, lay all the people, problems and pleas for help before the Omniscient and Omnipresent God of all Creation.

I can do this through prayer.

Recently, via an Instagram contest of all things, I came upon A–Z prayer cards designed by blogger/author/speaker, Amelia Rhodes. It is a simple concept packed with a powerful prayer punch. It has served me personally in this tension of wanting to do far more than I practically can do. It provides prayer prompts starting with each letter of the alphabet along with a scripture that coincides with the prayer focus. It ranges from Adoption to a creative “Zero Prejudice” for the letter “Z.”

The cards are well thought out, color printed on sturdy cardstock with blank lines for the user to write in the names of people and/or organizations that are personal to them.

If, like me, your compassion far exceeds your capacity, pick up a set of these prayer cards and unload your burdens onto a God whose competence matches His kindness, both boundless.

And now, holding my second-born daughter in my arms, thinking back on that brief exchange just a few years ago, I realize those fears were well-founded. I’ve failed many times. I’ve lost my temper. I’ve raised my voice. I’ve worked too much and played too little. I’ve seen my own sinfulness reflected in my daughter.

Yes, I’ve failed, but over and above it all, God’s grace has covered my parenting imperfections and made me run to the cross day after day. The writer of Proverbs puts it this way:

Whoever fears the LORD has a secure fortress, and for their children it will be a refuge.
Proverbs 14:26

When it comes to fears, we have two choices: Will we fear the unknown or will we fear the Lord? Will we allow the uncertain to grip us in its clutch or will we turn to God’s Truth to set us free?

Scared? Oh yeah. There was so much to be scared of that day. And even now, if I’m completely honest, there are still fears nibbling at the edges of my consciousness. Fear that we won’t outgrow the temper tantrums. Fear that the two girls won’t get along. Fear that I’ll mess them up and cause them interminable hours on a psychologist’s couch.

I’m sure you have fears, too.

But rather than allow those fears to consume and paralyze us, we can take them to the Lord, acknowledging His sovereignty over our parenting, pleading His grace over our mistakes, and entrusting His provision over their futures. He is not only able to handle it all — He is far more capable to be trusted with it all.

If I say one thing to that frightened 9-month-pregnant me standing in that room years ago, I would say this: Don’t let fear rob today’s joy with tomorrow’s unknowns. Each day has enough worries of its own (Matthew 6:34).

Instead, let us keep seeking God, running to Him as our secure fortress and resting in the knowledge that He will care for us and our children one day at a time.

What are you scared of today? Name your fears and bring them to the Lord, allowing Him to replace them with His peace that passes all understanding.

He Gives Shade To The Weary

Do you ever have those moments of fear because you don’t know what lies ahead? When do those thoughts tend to happen to you?

For me, most of those thoughts happen when I lay my head down to sleep at night. The vulnerability comes forth every time. That’s what happened the other night to me. I shut my eyes and immediately anxiety welled up inside me.

What if we don’t succeed in this new venture? What if we have to move? What if we can’t pay our bills?

I laid there with the covers drawn tight over my head (I still think that I am safer if the covers are over my head), praying scripture over my anxious heart. Assuring myself that God sees me and that He cares.

In the morning, I turned to Isaiah 41, specifically verses 10-20.

“Do not fear, for I am with you; Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, Surely I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10, NASB)

Yesterday, the “what if’s” piled up as I anxiously looked about me. My daughter needs tutoring, however at this point in life, tutoring feels like a luxury we can’t afford. So I listed some items online to sell hoping to make just enough to cover the tutoring. I’m buying groceries on a Visa reward card. I’m holding my breath until the next paycheck comes. But what did God speak over me: Do not fear. Do not look anxiously about you.

“For I am the Lord your God, who upholds your right hand, Who says to you, ‘Do not fear, I will help you.’ Do not fear, you worm Jacob, you men of Israel; I will help you,” declares the Lord, “and your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel.” (Isaiah 41:13-14 NASB)

Why shouldn’t I be anxious? Because God will hold me up. God will help me. When I first read the word “worm” as a description, I took it as a slam against Israel. Like, gesh, God. What animal does He relate me to? But through further study, He calls them a worm because worms are helpless. They are viewed as insignificant, despised and weak. God will help me — seemingly insignificant, helpless me — because He is my Redeemer. He is my go’el — my next of kin. The Redeemer is the one who provides for all my needs. Rent. Car payment. Credit card bill. Gas. Food. Clothes. Debt. God will redeem.

“Behold, I have made you a new, sharp threshing sledge with double edges; You will thresh the mountains and pulverize them, And will make the hills like chaff. You will winnow them, and the wind will carry them away, And the storm will scatter them; But you will rejoice in the Lord, You will glory in the Holy One of Israel.” (Isaiah 41:15-16 NASB).

God is transforming me from a helpless one to a powerful one. The description of that type of threshing sledge is like a modern day earth mover. Powerful. Strong. Immovable.

“The afflicted and needy are seeking water, but there is none, And their tongue is parched with thirst; I, the Lord, will answer them Myself, As the God of Israel I will not forsake them.” (Isaiah 41:17, NASB)

He will come to our rescue. God, Himself, will answer you and me. Can you hear how personal that sounds? Have you ever pleaded with someone important whether your boss, public figure, or even a parent, and they responded to the need themselves? You expected for them to send their assistant, but instead they — the most important one — responded to you.

“I will open rivers on the bare heights And springs in the midst of the valleys; I will make the wilderness a pool of water And the dry land fountains of water. I will put the cedar in the wilderness, The acacia and the myrtle and the olive tree; I will place the juniper in the desert Together with the box tree and the cypress.” (Isaiah 41:18-19, NASB)

This passage describes the wilderness-like times in life. You are barren. You are thirsty. You are hot. You are in need. God will provide what you need. God will quench your thirst. He will provide shade when you are weary. During those times, God can provide in creative, innovative ways. He can provide something out of nothing. Doesn’t that give you great hope? Even when you can’t answer how He will do it, He is creative enough to figure it out even when the odds are stacked against you.

“That they may see and recognize, And consider and gain insight as well, That the hand of the Lord has done this, And the Holy One of Israel has created it.” (Isaiah 41:20 NASB).

God will do all of this so that His glory will be put on display. People — including yourself — will see that He is powerful.

So you can see how after a night of wrestling with fear and anxiety, reading this was like shade and water for my soul. God is a god who sees. And God is a god who acts on your behalf.

What do you need His help with today? What are you fearful about today? What keeps you awake at night? Where do you need some shade?

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Hi, I'm Ashleigh Slater, founder and editor of Ungrind. Here at Ungrind, it’s our goal to churn out biblically-based encouragement for women. We strive to be honest and transparent about our struggles in a way that inspires hope, faith, and perseverance.

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